


Love Stories Don't Always End In Love

by FangirlTrash XOs (XOs)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 20th Century, Communism, Desire, F/M, Forced Relationship, Historical, Historical Hetalia, Historical References, Infatuation, Lust, Maids, Master/Servant, Master/Slave, Obsession, Servants, Slavery, Soviet Union, Stalking, Unrequited Crush, Unrequited Desire, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Lust, servitude
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 06:45:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14279298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XOs/pseuds/FangirlTrash%20XOs
Summary: After the collapse of Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth in 1795, Greta Laurinaitis has been under the servitude of the Russian Empire. Resigned as she is to her miserable existence, the arrival of World War Two comes as a terrible surprise and opens old wounds once more. As well as the arrival of the war, a fatal crossword ignites a strange infatuation that Greta isn't able to shake.





	1. The Not-So-Daily Grind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of Fem! Lithuania, because I absolutely adore her design and character. Sorry for being the way I am n(_ _)n

* * *

**A long time ago, there was once a great nation, who was feared and respected by all.** Wielding her sword, she was unconquerable, a war general like none other before. Her enemies trembled before her and those who did not were weary of the power she possessed. With her strength, even the Kingdom of Prussia viewed her as a formidable foe. There was not a single soul who dared look down upon her, or underestimate her, for those who opposed her would soon learn their actions were a mistake. This nation was one of a kind, a being both humble and powerful, who held strong values of honour. This particular nation was...

 

...in the snow.

Greta groaned, feeling cold winds bite mercilessly at her skin. Every inch of her body felt bruised and some part of her was glad to have fallen, just to avoid having more artillery pierce her flesh. She could barely feel her limbs from the cold weather, but that also came as a relief. She couldn't feel the wide extent of damage imposed upon her. Losing felt surreal, the kind of odd that brought a simple joy. In the distance, she could hear  _him_ singing a morbid victory song, the final salt to be rubbed in her wounds. It didn't matter anymore. She had lost. She had  _finally_ lost. She could  _finally_ give up. Hard work was no longer required. She could face dissolution now, as long as she no longer had to continue the endlessly dreariness of battle. She could lay down her sword and get a good night's sleep, possibly forever...

"Feliks," she whispered, sudden memories of her union flashing through her mind.

Raising her head, Greta could see his collapsed form in the distance and what she hoped was his red cloak covering his body. His face was planted in the ground, golden blonde hair spreading around his head like a halo. She couldn't see how wounded he was, but it must have been band since he wasn't moving nor making an attempt to.

"Feliks," she rasped, finding hidden strength in her trembling muscles, enough to raise her face from the snow.

Slowly, Greta began crawling through the snow, fingers clawing past dirt, grass, frost, snow and ice. Her friend didn't respond. He couldn't have been dead... could he? Her heart prickled at the thought. There had been plenty of times in her life when Greta had believed a life without Feliks would be much easier, pleasant even. However, now that the scenario had become a possibility, she couldn't imagine anything worse. What would a world without her best friend be like?

"Feliks?" she whimpered, because he wasn't responding and Greta was growing fearful. Feliks was always talkative. Now? Now... he wasn't. He was just lying there in the red.

Greta extended a hand forwards, towards him. She was still too far, but any hope that he would reach back remained in her chest. A large boot stamped on her hand, crushing it into the ground. Pain wracked through her nerves, the crunch of bone ringing through Greta's ears. She wailed, the cold winds drowning the sound out and it was only then that Feliks stirred. He didn't raise his head, though. Greta couldn't stop the tears forcing their way out of her ducts and lowered her forehead to the ground, trying to grimace past them. They managed to trickle down her cheeks, freezing on her face as they did so.

"What are  _you_ trying to do?" the owner of the boot lifted their foot and crouched down beside her.

Regrettably tearful, Greta raised her head and stared at the bruised hand, the fingers bent too much. She had thought the cold would erase all pain. She had been foolish and wrong to think that. A hiccup escaped her throat as she took in the broken bones. Trapped in her own world, she jumped in her skin when a gloved hand gently touched her chin, tilting her head up to look into  _his_ face. Ivan. He blinked calm violet eyes as he took her in, his blonde head crowned like an angel, but he was anything  _but_ holy.

"You're not the representative of Poland," he murmured thoughtfully. "Who are you?"

"Damn you," she hissed, her voice rough.

"An interesting name," he cupped her face to inspect her closer. "You must be this 'Lithuania' that everyone has been speaking of, da? I never... I never thought you'd be a  _girl_ , if I'm perfectly honest."

Greta didn't really know what to say to that, or if it garnered a response at all. Her breaths came out in cold puffs and Ivan busied himself wiping gently at the tears on her face. Greta's hand was still throbbing, so they kept rolling down like a solemn procession.

"I like you," he smiled. "What is your name?"

She furrowed her brow. Why did it matter what her name was?

"Tell me your name," he repeated, locking her gaze with his violet stare.

The almost vacant expression on his face ignited a sudden rage in the core of her chest. Baring her teeth, Greta gathered together her greatest courage, wanting to stand up for Feliks one more time, to use the last of her strength staying by her best friend's side.

"Piss off," she snapped past the tears.

He hummed in response, looking down into the snow. Ivan kept his hold of Greta's face, although his hold had tightened just that bit, squishing her cheeks. The subtle approach of irritation was somewhat disturbing. There was something strangely exotic about Ivan; the pale, ashen blonde hair, the milky complexion, the surprisingly dark lashes and the strangely intense violet coloured eyes that no other ordinary being shared. He took her broken hand in his and curled it into a tight ball. Greta cried out, entire body flinching. She tried to lower her head, to bury her face in the freezing snow, but he made her look at him. More tears burst free. She hadn't cried this much since she was a little child, lost and alone with no place truly to go. He kept wiping her face with his thumb, smiling tenderly, clenching my broken fingers in his curled fist.

"Greta," she sobbed.

He stopped and allowed her head to dip slightly. "Hmm?"

"Greta," she was crying and she hated it. Her hand was throbbing and, although he hand't let go, he wasn't crushing her fingers anymore.

" _Greta_..." he murmured it with a smile, as if tasting the word, tipping her chin up to look at him once more. "I like you, Greta. You're very pretty. If you would like, you can live with me in  _my_ house as a reward for such strength, da?"

"What?" she squinted past the tears.

If she would  _like_? Since she had the choice, Greta was going to drag Feliks back home and tend to whatever wounds he was suffering from. Automatically, she turned her head to look towards him, lying dejected in the snow. She would never leave him to live a cosy life with some unknown Ivan who had crushed them in battle. Said enemy let go of her pained hand, still serenely smiling. She had not imagined him to be so calm. She had envisioned a terrible warlord who offered no mercy, not an angelic figure who offered  _chances_.

"Oh, Greta..." he sighed softly, before his tone became light and jovial. "I was joking, da?"

"Huh?" she stared up at him in alarm when he suddenly let go of her face. Her chin hit the icy ground with a painful thud.

"You do not get choice, because you are not victor," he laughed, digging his hands underneath her waist.

"What are you-" she squawked as he hauled her over one shoulder and suddenly, the floor was a good metre away.

"You will live with me because I  _say_ you live with me," he had straightened up to full height and she was too weak to fight back. "Now, come along, Greta..."

He began walking away. She blinked drearily. He was taking her away from Feliks, away from the Commonwealth. This was the life they had built over the years,  _centuries_ of history based on the formation of two powerful nations. Greta couldn't just let it end in one moment. Give up? How had she come so close to letting herself just  _give up_? She had lost her strength, but Greta could now feel it coursing through her veins. She raised her head to look at Feliks, lying on the ground, clearly defeated, but not dead. His head stirred. It was like the fire in her chest had been reignited.

"Feliks!" she yelled, hearing the word echo around the snowy terrain as she leant on Ivan's shoulder for elevation. "Feliks!"

Her best friend,  _her best friend_ , stirred once more and raised his head to look at her. He looked so bruised and beaten. Greta hated to see him that way when he was normally smiling and laughing. Ivan had stopped walking in an attempt to wrestle her legs down.

"Feliks,  _help_!" she screamed and Ivan tutted in his attempts to steady her.

The Polish nation blinked slowly- and then sniggered.

Greta fell still, staring at him incredulously, with Ivan following her gaze. Feliks clamped a hand over his mouth and snorted out a laugh.

"F... Feliks?" Greta's voice was slowly dying into hoarse confusion.

"That face," he yelled. "You look  _so funny_ right now, Greta!"

Ivan smirked and continued walking.

But she wasn't done.

"Feliks!" she struggled and Ivan grunted, straining against her kicks and squirms. "Don't just lie there.  _Do something_!"

"You really should see yourself in a mirror," Feliks grinned.

"I... Feliks?" he really wasn't getting the message.

Greta's limbs, already tired, lost whatever strength they had. She slumped against Ivan, feeling her heart hammering in her chest. She was watching her best friend betray her. She  _needed_ him. She understood that he was injured, but he wasn't even concerned that she was being dragged away.

"Feliks?" any words she wanted to speak next were choked back by a sob.

He was  _laughing_. Feliks was laughing- and laughing- and laughing- and  _laughing_ \- and  _laughing_ \- and

"You traitor!" Greta awoke with a scream, sweating and tangled in her bed sheets.

Both Eduard and Raivis chorused a distressed shriek, disrupted from their sleep.

* * *

Greta was knackered the next morning. It had been a tough night of battling the bad dreams away. Getting out of bed had been taxing, but once the others had left to start their daily routines, she knew she would have to get into action soon. If she fell behind,  _everything_ fell behind and Mr Braginsky would be extremely mad. Nobody wanted that.

Her reflection looked pale and bleak in the mirror. She was braiding her hair, the usual routine, when all she wanted to do was lie down and sleep. She kept missing the weaves of her plait, so was taking more time than usual. It was just another stress to add to her already stressful day.

"Are you OK?"

She jumped, willing her tired mind to overcome the fatigue. Turning her head, she saw Eduard hovering in the doorway.

"Yeah," she sighed. "Just tired."

"If you want, I can always get Raivis to fill in for you whilst you take an extra nap?" he offered.

"It's fine," Greta shook her head. "I'll be fine. Besides, Mr Braginsky wouldn't be impressed to find one of us 'slacking'. I'll wake up a bit more once I get into the routine."

"If you're sure," he shrugged, doubt filling his voice. "I'll see you around, then."

Greta nodded, watching him leave before sighing into the mirror. There were dark shadows underneath her eyes. That hadn't been the first nightmare she'd had across this week, but it had certainly been the most vivid. She'd had a few sleepless nights. It was beginning to catch up on her. With a yawn, Greta finished her hair and left the room with an internal grumble.

What did she have to do today? She needed to: ensure the kitchen was clean by seven, fluff every pillow in the house by seven-thirty, head out to buy today's newspaper and be back by eight to then clean the kitchen for eight-thirty and have a fully cooked breakfast for Mr Braginsky by nine. His outfit for the day was to be prepared by nine-thirty, bid him goodbye which only took five minutes if done correctly- ten, if Raivis said something, anything. Cleaning the house often preoccupied her until midday, following by Mr Braginsky's return at one-thirty for his lunch which would be prepared for him in advance. Once more, she would bid him goodbye for his afternoon shift, which took five or ten minutes, depending. Checking the mail was best done between two-thirty to three, so Greta had the chance to sit down for the day, following by an hour of administrative business that she often managed to finish by four; after that, dinner preparations had to be made, the table cleaned and set, fake smiles and happiness practiced and food on the table for Mr Braginsky by the time he arrived at six. Whilst he was eating, she would run a bath and have his towel ready by six-thirty and start an evening fire by seven to chase away the cold. She would leave the remote for the television in an accessible and visible spot so that he couldn't complain and then she was on tea duty until eleven, when he finally decided to go to bed. She would head off to sleep at the same time, only to wake up at six the next morning and repeat the same wretched routine.

Greta shuddered at the thought of her dismal life. No matter what happened, this had become her reality the moment the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth had been dissolved.

Numbly, she headed to the kitchen and saw the other two already setting to work with cleaning the counters. She sullenly wandered past and instantly noticed something that was going to get us in trouble. The freezer's doors looked a little loose. Grasping the handle, Greta shook the door back and forth, watching as it popped open with little effort.

"How long has this been like this?" she asked.

"For a while now," Raivis admitted.

"This won't be keeping the meat properly," Greta worried. "We'll need to get a new one."

"I mean, it still closes and works," Eduard shrugged. "You just need to make sure it's closed properly. My policy is, why change something that works fine?"

"Because if Mr Braginsky finds out about this, he's not going to be very happy about it," she sighed. "And when  _he's_ unhappy, he makes  _us_ unhappy."

"I can look around for some companies if you want?" Eduard offered.

"I'll do it later," she waved a dismissive hand and saw them change an uncertain glance out of the corner of her eye. Greta chose to ignore it. The two boys shared the strangest reactions between them.

Grasping a cloth, she soaked it under the sink and wiped along the surfaces, ensuring not a speck of dust could be seen. There was a fog in her head as she slowly lapsed into a mechanical routine. It was like she was seeing her life from somebody else's perspective. Greta barely waved when Mr Braginsky left, much to the puzzlement of the three other nations and she almost fell asleep when making the beds. When the house was spotless, she hurried downstairs and busied herself with cutting up sandwiches into fours, just as Mr Braginsky liked them. Carrying the plate, she wandered into the living room, where he sat at the sofa, the TV on and the newspaper in his hands. Greta set the sandwiches down on their tray with tea and was about to leave when he lightly tugged at the hem of her dress. This wasn't part of the routine. She turned, alarmed and saw him staring at the newspaper with furrowed brows.

"Can you figure this out?" he asked and tapped the paper with his pen.

Greta looked. Did he have the right person? She was looking at a crossword. A  _crossword_? Why on Earth was Mr Braginsky getting her to help him out with a  _crossword_?

"Which one?" she asked, wondering if her sleepy mind was really the best choice to aid him or if it would be better to call Eduard over.

He patted the seat beside him. Cautiously, she sat down. "Parties appeal to him. A five letter word."

The words and squares blurred across the page. The sofa was so comfortable and such a relief from walking around all day. Subtly, Greta sank back into the soft sofa and stared at the unsolved puzzle.

"I just can't figure it out," he huffed.

"Person- no... that's six letters," she yawned and he glanced at her. Greta hastily clamped her mouth shut. Acting tired in front of him only asked for psychological humiliation. "Woman? But it's a 'him'. Um..."

The sofa was so comfortable. Greta was struggling to keep her heavy eyelids up.

"Human...?"

"That doesn't make any sense," he chuckled.

"What?" she squinted. "No, it doesn't; you're right. Leader? No... it's... um..."

There was a pause as she tried to think.

"It's..."

Greta yawned.

"It's, um... yeah."

"Huh?"

"That's it."

"What is?"

 

"Greta?"

* * *

Someone lightly nudged her, breaking her out of the deep sleep. Slowly, Greta opened her eyes. She felt so groggy, as if she'd just woken up from a century long slumber. The radio was playing softly in the background. A soft prod at her head brought her back just enough to know she was on the sofa. The crossword. What had happened with the crossword? Greta turned her head, pressing her cheek against a warm shoulder and saw the paper had been discarded on the table, incomplete and forgotten. Five letters. Parties appealed to him.

"Voter," she mumbled, half-awake and closed her eyes again.

"Greta..." her head was tapped again.

"I said  _voter_ ," she pushed a hand away, just eager to go back to sleep and catch up with all the hours she had been missing out on.

" _Nyet_ , Greta.  _Vstavay_."

She sniffed tiredly. "What?"

"Wake up, please."

She pushed her face against... wait. Who was she leaning on? Forcing herself to wake up, Greta craned her neck upwards and stared into Mr Braginsky's violet eyes. There was a pause until he cocked an eyebrow and smiled.

Shooting to her feet, Greta hastily bowed. "I'm so sorry, Mr Braginsky. I didn't mean to fall asleep like that. I'll be much more careful from now on, I promise. Just don't-"

"Calm down," he frowned, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he studied her. "I'm not mad anymore. If you haven't been getting enough sleep, you should rest, Greta."

"Yes, Mr B- what?" she raised her head to look at him.

"Being tired means you make mistakes and nobody wants that, da?" he smiled.

"N-no..." she said carefully.

"Next time, just grab a quick nap when you have time in your day," he nodded.

Greta frowned. When did she have  _time_ to nap? She supposed she could skip the mail on  _one_ day, but that risked ignoring an important letter- scratch that idea...

His smile faltered. "You have  _time_ for a quick half hour nap, right?"

Threw in a vague nod. It didn't work.

"Aren't there some tasks that Raivis and Eduard can take over from you?" he asked uncertainly.

They didn't do it right. The silence spoke volumes.

"OK," he stood awkwardly. "Well, I need to head off again. Just..."

He paused beside her, standing stiffly. "...don't overdo it?"

Greta turned to watch him leave, quizzical. What on Earth had just happened? Embarrassed, she went on to try and catch up with the unfinished duties. How had she managed to mess up like that? Desperate to slip back into the old routine, she was a little clumsy with various tasks. When she finally made it back to the kitchen to help with dinner some hours later, the other two were in fully conversation.

"...and then he turns up early and blames  _us_ for not having finished dinner in time," Raivis grumbled. "How are supposed to see into the future?"

"Hey, Greta," Eduard noticed her. "Did you see that just now?"

"See what?" she asked.

"Mr Braginsky came back early and apparently it's  _our_ fault dinner isn't finished," he explained.

"We should probably hurry up, then," she sighed, getting to work.

"He's just so unfair, all of the time," Raivis scorned. "With what his Bosses put him through, you'd think the guy would understand our plight a bit more."

"We shouldn't be so harsh," Greta sighed and they both snapped their heads towards her. "What?"

"He's horrible," Eduard paled.

"And a high functioning psychopath, in case you hadn't noticed," Raivis added.

"Look, I'm not about to write off anything... but he was nice to me," she admitted and saw them look incredulous. "I know, but it was really relieving, especially since I haven't been getting a lot of sleep lately. I never thought it could happen, but he became a different person, really."

She paused as she processed what she was saying.

"If that could happen just a bit more, I really wouldn't mind," she mused. "It was like having someone new to talk to. I quite like  _him_ , but..."

They were quiet. She looked up to see them staring off towards the door. Greta turned her head and saw Mr Braginsky peering in with a smile. Swallowing, Greta attempted to mirror his expression with a radiant beam.

"Mr Braginsky, is there-"

He chuckled, wiggling his fingers into a wave and his smile widened. With a duck of his head, he disappeared from sight, his footsteps echoing down the hallway as he left. The other two looked at Greta, pallid.

"I take everything back," she said. "That was far too ominous."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vstavay: "arise" or "wake up".  
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm on a bit of a writing spree at the moment, so don't mind me.


	2. Strange Circumstances

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm addicted to writing this! I've never thought much about Fem! Lithuania as a character but now that I've fit her into a Fic, I'm feeling really good about this!
> 
> Once more, sorry for being the mess that I am n(_ _)n I probably won't stop apologising until I've finished this Fic.

* * *

**A loud thudding woke the three of them up the next morning.** With a groan, Greta stirred and saw the other two forms rustling in their sheets. What time was it? She glanced around for the clock and saw the hand pointing to the five. Squinting, Greta wondered if she had imagined any noise at all, until the harsh knocking continued. It seemed there really  _was_ someone awake at this hour.

" _Hello_?" the word was drawn out and impatient.

It took a moment for the voice to click, but once it did, Greta bolted out of bed, much to the alarm of the other two, and dashed for the door.

"Mr Braginsky," she tried to curtsy, but it was hard in a night dress. "Sorry to make you wait. We were just-"

"Finally," he patted her head three times. "It takes a lot to wake you three up, da?"

"What do you need, Mr Braginsky?" Raivis huffed, hovering by Greta's elbow. "It's ridiculously early in the morning."

"Raivis," Eduard pulled him back with a loud hiss, as Ivan glowered past her.

"I must admit, it is rather early," she tried not to yawn. Hadn't he been telling her yesterday to get more sleep? Perhaps this was his twisted method of a punishment. "You don't want to get tired, Mr Bragin-"

"I'm showing you to your new room, da?" he beamed.

What on Earth was he talking about? It wasn't worth arguing about. Greta had learn a  _long_ time ago to never argue with Ivan. In fact, she was probably dreaming. 

"Goodnight, Mr Braginsky," she said politely and began inching the door shut. "I'll bring you some tea up at nine and you can have a bit of a lie in tomor-"

He slammed his palm against the door's surface and pushed against it. Greta couldn't close it. Panic fluttered through  her heart. What could he  _possibly_ want this early in the morning? And more importantly,  _why_?

"I'm showing you your new room, Greta," he insisted pointedly. "It would be rude to decline, da?"

"I'm not quite sure I understand," she tried to smile, but instead grimaced. " _This_ is my roo-"

"Your  _new_ room," he patted her head again. "Come on, Greta. Wake up."

"But, Mr Braginsky,  _this_ is my-"

" _New_ room;  _new_ ," he said, grabbing her elbow and hauling him along.

"What are you doing?" she struggled, fighting instincts threatening to kick in as the other two watched with wide, frightened eyes. "Where are we going?"

"Have you not been listening to me?" he glanced back at her with a bright smile and a gleam in his eye. "I'm showing you to your new room, da?"

"I don't need a new room, Mr Braginsky," she fretted. "I hope I haven't been ungrateful about my current lodgings, because I would never want-"

"No, but you really need to learn to accept free gifts," he pulled her up the stairs. "Honestly, Greta. If you didn't look 'ungrateful' before, you really do now."

"Thank you for the new room," she blurted out.

"You haven't seen it yet," he stopped suddenly and she bumped into him. "Here we are."

Glancing around, she found they had walked to the back of the house, a place she was often told to clean despite its infrequent use. People of importance were often placed on this side of the house; visitors who remained due to business meetings and other official matters.

"These re the guest rooms," she protested. "I really don't think-"

He shushed her and pushed open the door. This was weird. Ivan had never acted like this before. Greta's only explanation was that this was linked to that dreaded crossword from yesterday. Was this a  _punishment_ for falling asleep, or a  _reward_ for helping him find the one and praising him for it? She couldn't tell and it was making her deeply uncomfortable.

"All yours," he remarked, grasping her shoulders and guiding her inside. He was far too close for comfort. Usually, Greta made sure Ivan was a good metre or two away from from her.

This was far different to the cramped conditions she had previously been lumped with. There was a double bed, just for her, compared to the three single beds crammed into the same room she shared with Eduard and Raivis. There was a big window that could be both opened and jumped out of, regardless of this being the second floor of the house. Not that Greta was planning on leaping out of windows any time soon. There was a nice rug, her own wardrobe, a chest of drawers and an  _en suite_ bathroom just for her. Ivan had, essentially, gifted her with one of the best guest rooms, for reasons Greta couldn't think of. Surely a crossword puzzle hadn't meant  _that much_ to him, right?

"Wow, where are  _our_ rooms?" Raivis, who had followed at a safe distance from behind, was staring at the large space with the wide eyes of a child who was seeing presents under a Christmas tree.

"Only  _Greta_ gets a new room," Ivan growled, barring Raivis out of the way. "You like it, da?"

"Yes," there was no point in lying. "But why?"

He froze on the spot and she tried to envision the cogs of his mind turning. Ivan was incredibly difficult to read, but there were times when Greta could assume exactly what he was thinking. Now, however, she was struggling. He was like a blank slate, the furrows of his brow bring an extreme look of concentration across his features. It was almost like he didn't  _have_ a reason for bestowing this sudden gift on her.

"Because you deserve it," he finally smiled cheerfully.

Why did Greta feel so suspicious? Had he arranged a pipe in this room that would conveniently leak carbon monoxide or some other deadly poison? Was the bed rigged to collapse through the ceiling so he could accuse her of damaging his home? Would an axe murderer, A.K.A. Ivan, climb in through the window and kill her in the night? What was Ivan's motive for giving her the new room, yet denying the other two their own personal space? She had been living under his roof for around 150 years. Why had things  _suddenly_ changed?

"Thanks," it was the only thing she could think to say in that situation.

"I guess we'll go back to bed, then," Raivis added sourly.

He ducked with magnificent grace as Ivan took a swipe at him.

"We'll see you later, Greta," Eduard began steering the small Baltic away whilst Ivan glowered after them.

Was he going to leave? She didn't want to be left standing alone with Ivan as the other two made a comfortable retreat back to familiarity.

"Actually, I'll come with," she shot forwards, seeing Ivan's brow raise.

"What about your room?" he demanded, an edge creeping into his tone.

"Well, I might as well collect my things now," she shrugged hurriedly, grabbing on to Eduard's sleeve to stop him moving further away. "I wouldn't want to wake Raivis and Eduard up doing it later, so I'd say it's just...  _easier_... to do it... now."

"Don't you want to test out the bed?" Ivan looked like he was on the verge of panicking.

"I can do that later," she insisted. "At the moment, I just think it'd be better to move my things first."

"You're already in your nightwear," he pointed out. "Why not just sleep now? It's really comfy, and it doesn't creak!"

To demonstrate this, he pushed down on the mattress twice, the bed dipping beneath his weight like a sponge. No irritating noise erupted.

"Looking good," she nodded stiffly. "I look forward to trying it out later."

"You'll forget which room it is," he was almost baring his teeth in his attempt to smile.

"I clean this house  _every day_ , Mr Braginsky," Greta smiled knowingly. "I think it's safe to say I know my way around better than  _you_ do."

A clueless expression appeared on his face. The silence was enough for Greta to push Eduard along and make their way further down the hallway in her next attempt to get away from the awkward conversation with Ivan. 

"Greta, wait," he ran out of the room in a flurry. "I'll help bring your things up. It'll make the process quicker, da?"

"She has  _our_ help, Mr Braginsky," Raivis said impatiently. " _We_ want to go to bed, since _our_ overloaded schedules during the day mean we already don't get enough sleep as it is, thank you very much."

If it hadn't been their cue to leave before, it definitely was now. Greta saw the dark shadows of irritation flash across Ivan's face, just as Eduard whipped her around the corner. The three Baltic nations hurried down the hallway and down the stairs once more to avoid the wrath of Ivan. It would be aimed at Raivis, of course, but if the other two could prevent such disasters happening, then they tried their best to. Eduard was the one to close their bedroom door behind them, a stern expression appearing on his face.

"You need to tell us what happened between you and Ivan the other day," he said.

"You make it sound scandalous," Greta winced. "I just helped him figure out his crossword puzzle. It really was nothing."

"I think it's safe you say a little crossword puzzle isn't going to make him suddenly acting like this," Eduard folded his arms.

"Maybe it has something to do with her saying he wasn't all that bad?" Raivis piped in, sitting on the end of his bed, swinging his legs.

"I only said that because he let me take a nap," Greta put her face in her hands. "I didn't think he'd suddenly start believing with were friends."

"When did he let you do that?" Eduard shot her a stare that somehow looked both quizzical and exasperated.

"During the crossword," Greta admitted. "I fell asleep beside him."

"That may have something to do with his strange behaviour, then," Eduard pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, as Greta exchanged a confused stare with Raivis. "Just remember that, no matter what happens, no means no."

"Pardon?" she squinted.

"Hm?" he blinked, surprise flicking across his features. "I'm sorry. I thought it was an appropriate occasion for that, but apparently not. My best advice to you would be to act slightly disinterested when he speaks to you whilst remaining relatively polite. For now, though, I'm going to bed. As much as I would  _love_ to help you move, I'd much rather go to sleep."

"Thanks, Ed," she smiled drily.

"My pleasure," he whipped his glasses off and climbed back into bed. "You know where to find me if you need me, but only for emergencies."

"Understood," Greta said.

"I'll help move things to your room," Raivis shot to his feet with an eager smile.

"You just want the chance to snoop around the room," she shook her head in disbelief.

"You got me," he grinned.

* * *

The two of them looked around Greta's new room. It looked far more comfortable now that she and Raivis had moved her personal belongings in. She didn't own  _much_ , but the little ornaments on the table and a few pieces here and there provided just enough life to say someone was at least living there. Greta wandered to the window and looked at the rising dawn that streaked the sky pink, purple, orange and yellow. There would be no point in going to sleep now, since they had to be awake in an hour's time. When she turned to Raivis, she saw he was assessing the room with a solemn expression in his blue eyes. He normally looked so young and vulnerable, but he now wore an age old sadness that revealed him to be far older than he appeared.

"Are you going to be OK?" he asked, noticing her staring.

"Me?" she gawked, watching as he lowered himself down on the edge of her bed, a miserable expression on his face.

There were three people, excluding Greta, who had a grasp on her difficult past. The first was Ivan, who obviously didn't give a damn considering he was the one to inflict such pains on her. The other two were Eduard and Raivis, who had had to suffer living under the Russian Empire alongside her. Since Ivan specifically chose to pick on her, it was easy for Greta to forget the other two had been living under his roof for far longer, having been taken from Sweden in 1721 after the events of the Northern War. Still, it was Greta that Ivan chose to torment for reasons she couldn't explain. Ever since the fall of the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, Ivan had made it his mission to diminish her strength and dominate her. It was as if he felt particularly obligated to put her in her own place, especially as Eduard and Raivis had been passed on from Berwald Oxenstierna to Ivan. They had never been a central power like she had. In truth, Greta and the entirety of Lithuania were probably one of the Russian Empire's greatest conquests.

But she didn't want Raivis to spend his time worrying about her. Greta believed she was stronger than she looked. At first, there  _had_ been tears. She had gone from having everything, to simply being nothing. The change had been drastic and sudden. She had felt demoralised and her best solution had been to bend her head down and cry into her pillow at night. Eventually, though, the tears dried, her stance straightened and walked into every day with a fake smile and compliance. Greta did what she had to in order to survive, until she had diminished herself into a figure of passivity. She would fiercely stand up for Raivis and Eduard when required to, but conflict was the last thing she wanted, particularly now that Ivan had grown so powerful because of the Soviet Union.

"I'll be fine," she sat beside him. "I've been through much worse."

"That's why I'm worried," he stared into his lap, twiddling his thumbs. "I don't ever want things to go back to that again."

"Ivan has been a lot more threatening and sinister in the past, trust me," she smiled sympathetically and watched his expression of surprise. "I know. Even  _I_ sometimes call him Ivan when he's not around. I don't need to show respect when he's not here, and neither do you. Although, be careful with what you say, just in case if he's right around the corner."

"When will we escape this Hell?" he sniffed.

Greta opened her mouth to speak, but then found her words failed. Ever since her capture in 1795, she had  _only_ dreamt of her freedom. She had envisioned her return to Lithuania, to feel the soft green grass bend underneath bare feet and know that she would never have a curfew. She often thought about her home country. Did they still call themselves 'Lithuanians', or had they resigned themselves to a new ethnic identity of 'Russians'? Did the words they say align with a Latin alphabet, or a Cyrillic one? Did they look to the past for pride, or the present and the future? Did they look up to the Great Leader, or Polish and Lithuanian kings from many years ago? She often wondered these things and hoped the culture of her people had been preserved over the years.

And there had been plenty of opportunities to dream of freedom. The first had been on 22nd January, 1863. She remembered the cold air as she ran towards Feliks, shouting her allegiance. That had garnered her the worst punishment for as long as she had lived with Ivan, but the thrill and possibility of escape had called to her. She had stood beside her best friend for the first time in sixty years, brandishing a weapon. It would also be the last time she stood up to the Russian Empire. She and Feliks had been beaten to the ground and her best friend's beautiful home had been simply renamed to 'Vistula', after the river that ran nearby. Her life had fallen into a dissatisfied quiet until the 1905 Revolution. She had watched with bated breath as the Romanovs faced their own people. Greta had silently prayed that this would end the Russian monarchy, thus felling the empire and granting her the freedom she had craved for in 110 years. However, that had not been the case. The Romanov Dynasty appeased their people with menial concessions and life had slowly lapsed back into the never-ending grey of repetition and a loss of hope. Greta had plugged along until war was declared in 1914. The First World War promised conflict to a scale that had never yet been seen before. Greta believed that, if this wasn't the end of the world, then it would definitely be the end of the Russian Empire. That meant she would be able to walk away back to Lithuania. She had only been right about one thing, and it hadn't been her freedom. In October, 1917, the course of Russian history changed forever with the rise of the Bolsheviks. The Romanov Dynasty had been upturned and slaughtered back in February, thus ending the Russian Empire. Greta had thought it would be the end. She had tried to slip away, but it was in those times of crises that Ivan had increased his watch over her, much to her irritation. The face of Vladimir Lenin would ultimately ruin Greta's chance of escape. He rebuilt Russia from the dust, forming the Soviet Union in 1922 and taking away the last shred of hope that Greta had of returning to Lithuania.

But it was now August 17th, 1939, and there appeared to be something brewing on the horizon. Greta attributed this to the leader of Germany, a man who went by the name Adolf Hitler. She had never met him, but his reputation preceded him significantly. He had already annexed a large portion of Europe and had signed a strange alliance pact with the Italian leader Mussolini. With a large portion of Central Europe under German control, Greta believed it was only a matter of time before Germany came to loggerheads with the Soviet Union. For starters, Hitler was a Fascist, which entirely opposed the Communist ideals of Joseph Stalin. The two were destined to disagree based on ideological ideas alone. But moreover, they were both powerful men who wanted more. Greta had seen many like that in the past and knew only one could come out on top. Given the strength the Germans had proved, she wouldn't have been surprised if the next annexation led to the collapse of the Russian supremacy. The worst case scenario would be if the Soviet Union defeated Germany. That way, she would have to live the rest of her days out, miserable and accepting she would never escape the terrible clutches of Ivan. What she believed would happen is that Russia would fall and she would then move under the control of the German nation, Ludwig Beilschmidt. Anything was better than Ivan, though. She could content herself living under Ludwig's roof, so long as she no longer had to bear the burden of Ivan. What she silently hoped was that they would destroy one another and that she would walk free. She knew that was almost an impossible outcome, but the tendrils of hope refused to leave her heart at peace. Still, freedom seemed strangely closer than ever. 

"I think it'll arrive sooner than we expect," she ruffled his hair. "But you need try and get some rest now, as do I."

"Can I stay here tonight?" he asked, tearful.

If he wasn't crying, she would've joked he was just trying to snag a spot in the comfortable room, but the tears running down his face were real. She hadn't known Raivis and Eduard as long as others, but Greta's was willing to say she had come to know them like family as time had progressed- brothers, to be precise.

"Of course," she smiled sadly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Latvia is a cinnamon roll. Please protect him.


End file.
